Voyage of the Dead - Book One Sovereign Spirit Saga

by Forsyth, David

  This response stunned Scott more than almost anything else he had experienced that day. “Is the situation really that desperate already?” he asked.

  “You are not our only hope,” replied Dr. Frost. “But you seem like a good bet to me. As I understand it, you and your people have been isolated from the infection. You have a ship with long endurance, sophisticated lab equipment, and the ability to conduct recovery operations by sea, land, and air. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir,” Scott confirmed. “We do, but we are still a thousand miles away from Malibu.”

  “I understand that, Commodore Allen,” said Dr. Frost. “But you are headed there?”

  “Yes, sir, we are,” Scott confirmed again.

  “In that case I can only repeat my request for your assistance as soon as possible. An extraction operation might not be necessary by the time you arrive, but considering how quickly everything else has disintegrated, I think it prudent to enlist your service.” Dr. Frost sounded sincere, but his troubled tone set off some of Scott’s mental alarm bells.

  “I don’t have as much information as you do, Dr. Frost,” Scott replied. “But if you are betting on us to deliver any vital information or people from Malibu, then the situation must be much worse than the TV news is describing. And, if that’s true, you can rest assured that you have just lit a fire under my butt that will take us to Malibu as soon as possible.”

  *****

  Scott was in deep discussion with Captain Fisher on the bridge when a crewman came to inform him that his son, Billy, was waiting to see him. He took a moment to calm down. Upon reflection, Scott realized that he was blessed to have his family safely aboard the Sovereign Spirit. He was glad that he had time to spend with them. So he excused himself and went down to the library where the crewman said Billy was waiting.

  The library was a beautiful room with mahogany bookcases on every wall and rolling ladders to reach the thousands of books shelved on them. A conference table with cushioned chairs occupied one end f the room. A couch, coffee table and two reclining chairs under chandeliers that swayed with the rolling swells, filled out the other end of the room in a casual style of elegance. Billy was up on a ladder getting a book when Scott came in. Billy grinned and came down with a book in his hand.

  “Hi dad,” he said shyly. “I know you’re busy and a lot is happening, but I wanted to talk to you about a few things.”

  “No problem, son,” Scott said with genuine feeling. “I’ll always make time for you, buddy. This whole zombie thing is crazy, but it’s real. I just thank God that you and most of our family are here and safe. I don’t know what I would do if you were back at Cal Tech in the middle of that nightmare. By the way, do you have any news from your friends on the internet?”

  “Well, dad,” Billy replied hesitantly. “Actually, I do. I read some messages that make me think that most of my friends at school are already dead.”

  “Oh no! Thank God you’re here,” said Scott. “Are you sure they’re gone?”

  “Not absolutely sure,” Billy replied. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

  “This is a horrible time, son. And there’s not a lot we can do about it either. I wish there were. We can only be thankful that we are safe on this ship. There are a lot of worse places to be.”

  “Yeah, well,” Billy continued with a slight hesitation. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about; about doing something to help some of my friends who are in a worse place than we are. And we can help them, if you let us.”

  “Who do you want to rescue?” Scott asked before Billy could spit it all out.

  “My friends in Malibu – Amanda, Brad, David, Shawn, lots of them! They’re all holding out at Brad’s house on Sweetwater Mesa. We’ve got to save them, dad!” Billy’s voice rose and his anxiety showed through his façade of calm. “I already told them that we were coming to rescue them with a ship and a helicopter. Please, dad, can we do that?”

  “Well,” Scott paused for a moment to consider the prospects. “Yeah, son, we can certainly try. I’ve been thinking about doing something to help save more lives. I’d like to start with our friends, if we can. I’ve already made the same type of promise to rescue some people in Malibu. We certainly have plenty of room here for your friends too.”

  “Great!” exclaimed Billy. “And I know about the weapons too. Mark told Jake and he told us. So, what have you got?” Billy was ginning now.

  “Damn,” said Scott. “So much for secrets on this ship! Yes, son, we do have quite a few guns and other weapons stashed away. We’ll probably be pulling some of them out soon. And you’re certainly old enough to use one. In fact, considering what’s happening in the world today, you better get used to carrying a gun on a regular basis. I’ll see that you and your friends here get hand guns and start practicing with them tomorrow. You can start practicing with rifles too. I think I’ve got an extra AR-15 with your name on it, as soon as you prove that you can use it responsibly. As for the rest, let me try to keep a few secrets a little longer, okay?”

  “Sure, dad,” Billy answered with an even bigger smile. “I knew I could count on you.”

  Scott stepped forward and hugged his son and thanked his lucky stars that they were safe and together on this day of horror. Then he glanced down and asked, “What book did you choose, son?”

  “World War Z,” replied Billy. “I know it was one of your favorites, but I never read it. I guess now is a good time to check it out.”

  “By all means, Billy,” said Scott. “It’s a good book. I hope you like it. I just hope that our zombie war isn’t quite as bad as the one described in that book. Be sure to read all of it though. You’ll see that there is some hope, even in a world like this. We can wake up from this nightmare, but only after we fight our way through it. I know you planned on a nice safe life working on computers or running a company, but life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan it. The important thing to remember is that we have to make the best of the cards we get dealt. Just remember that you can win with a bluff as well as a full house, once you learn how to play the game.”

  *****

  George Hammer was dead tired as he steered the Expiscator through the relatively calm waters inside the wake of the Sovereign Spirit. The big ship left a glowing phosphorescent trail, just like a highway, that George and the other boats behind him could easily follow even in the dead of night. It was a beautiful and seemingly peaceful seascape that George beheld as he led the rag-tag flotilla north, but his thoughts were full of the horrors he seen in Cabo.

  The television coverage had been unbelievable, more like a science fiction movie of the type that George detested, but coming face to face with actual zombies had nearly sent him off the deep end and into a spiral towards madness. The worst memory that kept replaying in his mind was the look on the face of his son-in-law as George pulled the trigger that sent a .357 hollow point through his brain. George never could have imagined himself doing that until he was faced with this new and deadly world full of zombies.

  He was replaying that scene once again, trying to think of any other option that he missed, when he heard someone enter the bridge behind him. His newly awakened survival instincts made his head jerk around to check for any threat, but he relaxed when he saw that it was the woman he had rescued on the road in Predregal.

  “Hello Carla,” George said. “Can I help you?”

  “You’ve already helped me, George,” she replied with a smile. “I just wanted to see if there is anything I can do to help you.” She was dressed in an outfit that must belong to Scott’s wife, Michelle, and would have been hanging in the closet in the master bedroom. It complemented her shapely figure. George tried not to read anything into her offer.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” George assured her. “I’m just winding down from all of the excitement today. This situation takes a lot of getting used to. It still doesn’t seem real.”

  “I know how you feel, George,” said Carla as she c
rossed the bridge to stand beside him. “I think it isn’t real,” she whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

  “What do you mean?” George asked quizzically.

  “I mean this is all so crazy that maybe it’s all just a bad dream,” Carla said absently. “It can’t be real, can it?” George didn’t know how to respond to that, so he simply shook his head and stared out to sea. He nearly jumped a moment later when Carla placed her hand on his thigh and slid it up to his crotch.

  “Hey now,” he gasped. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to help you,” said Carla in a seductive voice. “I want to thank you for saving me today. And I want to make you feel better too.”

  “Stop that,” said George as his penis began to harden. “I’m a married man.”

  “I was a married woman,” whispered Carla as she pressed her body against him. “But nothing matters anymore. We’re alone in the middle of the ocean. It’s the end of the world. Nothing makes sense. Nothing matters. It isn’t even real. If this is a dream, help me make it a good one.” She continued to rub his swollen member as she breathed that into his ear and started kissing his neck.

  George was a strong man, a generally good man who had always been a loyal husband, but this sexual assault was too much for him to resist in his fragile emotional condition. He turned towards Carla and met her kiss, half expecting her to bite off his tongue. She didn’t. After a minute of heated kissing and groping George reached down to engage the yacht’s autopilot and led Carla back to the skipper’s cabin behind the bridge.

  *****

  Hours later Scott was still up and working on the computer in his office. He had sent out a mass mailing to all of his email contacts, informing them that he was alive and aboard the Sovereign Spirit. He gave a brief description of his intentions to take the ship up the coast of California and asked any of his friends who received his message and needed assistance to reply ASAP. He didn’t expect many replies, but was pleasantly surprised when a few messages started coming in.

  One in particular caught his eye. It was from an old college friend in San Diego. He wrote that he and his family were trapped in the penthouse of the student apartment building that he owned and operated. Scott knew exactly where the building was, since he was one of the major investors in the venture. So Scott typed a quick reply telling him to stay put and expect a rescue by helicopter within a few days.

  Another reply came in from an old friend in Scott’s home town of Santa Barbara. He and his wife had a small yacht of their own and were currently anchored near Stern’s Warf, safe from zombies, but unsure of what to do next. Scott wrote back suggesting that they sit tight for now and monitor the situation in Santa Barbara. Scott also promised to look for them when the Sovereign Spirit made its way up the coast.

  Shortly before dawn on the West Coast, Scott went back to the multimedia room to watch an exhausted Fox Rusher on GNN. The news remained dismal and alarming. But Scott was surprised that none of the reports had mentioned any of the information that the CDC had given them about the origins of the disease. GNN should have access to the same data that the CDC had shared with Scott. Why would they withhold it from the public? Scott’s troubled thoughts were interrupted by yet another news flash on the television.

  “This is Fox Rusher with a GNN Special Report. We have received confirmation that Air Force One crashed into a mountain near Colorado Springs at eleven o’clock Mountain Time last night. Military helicopters have been searching the area since then, but have not found any survivors. The President of the United States is missing and presumed dead. I repeat, the President is missing and presumed dead following a catastrophic plane crash near Colorado Springs.”

  Scott spilled his coffee as he leaned forward in shock. He was no big fan of this president or his policies, but it was hard to think of any worse time for the nation to lose its leader. Fox Rusher continued to describe the tragic event.

  “Reports indicate that Air Force One, the familiar 747 used by the President, had been in the air for more than 72 hours and never landed after bringing the President back from Africa on April 1st. It had used mid-air refueling from military tanker planes to keep the President airborne and circling over the Mid-West where he was protected from any dangers on the ground.

  “It is not clear exactly what caused the plane to crash, but aviation experts have several theories. Pilot fatigue is an obvious possibility on that long of a flight; even though we know that Air Force One carries a back-up crew. Mechanical failure is also possible when a plane operates that long continuously. We are also told that although Air Force One could receive in-flight refueling, it was not possible to add engine oil without landing.

  “In any event, we have been told that the President had decided to land in Colorado Springs and set up a temporary Western White House at the NORAD facility buried under Cheyenne Mountain. Air Force One crashed into another mountain about ten miles from NORAD. We will bring you further details as they become available. For now, recapping this tragic news, GNN has confirmed that Air Force One crashed into a mountain late last night. The President is missing and presumed dead. We have been told to expect a broadcast from the Vice-President, now President, Moe Bison who is now directing homeland security operations from an undisclosed location.”

  The picture on the big plasma screen changed from showing the Presidential Seal to more breaking news on the Zombie Apocalypse. A mob of zombies were shown chasing a woman along a beach. Fox Rusher explained that this was a live web cam view of South Beach in Miami. The woman almost made it to the ocean before the first zombie caught her. Viewers caught a glimpse the woman’s terrified face before GNN switched to another web cam showing an endless traffic jam on a nameless freeway. Scott had seen enough for a while. He rose from his chair, wiped at the coffee stain on his shirt, and headed back to his suite to catch a few hours of much needed sleep. He would be watching the news as much as possible for the next few days as the Sovereign Spirit cruised up the coast of Baja towards whatever was left of the United States of America.

  *****

  Interlude in Hell

  Chevron Refinery, El Segundo, CA: 10:30 AM, April 4, 2012

  Carl winched slightly as a fleck of molten metal singed the hair on his chest, but he didn’t stop welding the improvised crash guard onto the bumper mounts of the 4x4 Chevy Suburban that he was modifying for operations on the zombie infested streets of LA. This was the sixth vehicle that he had made zombie-proof in the four days that he had spent inside the refinery and he had selected this one for his own use. It was a heavy duty utility version with lots of bells and whistles that had been used by the Plant Manager. But now it looked like something out of the movie Road Warrior. Chain link fence was wrapped and welded over the exterior.

  As soon as he had arrived in the refinery’s motor pool, when Gus and Chuck rescued him, Carl had envisioned a plan. The refinery seemed to be secure from zombie incursions, a least for the moment, due to the tall fences that had been built to keep intruders and terrorists off the grounds. It also had electric generators and obviously enough fuel to keep them running for a hundred lifetimes; but food, weapons, and living quarters were in short supply. The refinery was not exactly designed as a survival retreat, but it did have a secure perimeter and a lot of heavy duty vehicles. The sight of those vehicles inspired Carl’s plan.

  There were thirty-seven workers still inside of the refinery when Carl arrived. The rest had either left to find their families or never showed up for work on April 1st. The few workers who remained had shut down the refinery operations safely and closed the gates to keep the zombies out. Carl was the only person to have made it over the fence since then, but the workers all had horror stories of those who tried and failed. And they had watched as the city fell apart around them. Carl had a better view of those events from the top of the water tower, including the carnage on the freeway and at LAX. Carl had also listened to the chaos on the fire department radio and knew that the horror was widespr
ead. The workers in the refinery had less understanding of what was happening beyond the fence, but they had listened to AM radio news. And they had clearly grasped the enormity of the disaster. Their haunted eyes and hollow voices reflected the doom that all of them felt. That mood was not improved by their limited and dwindling supply of candy bars and snack packs from the vending machines.

  Carl was a new face and source of hope at the refinery. As such, he got to know most of the workers quickly and saw both potential and despair in their countenance. As soon as he gathered his thoughts, Carl injected his own ideas. He told them they needed to think about going out to get supplies, look for weapons, and possibly rescue other survivors. Carl also explained that the police and firemen had been recalled to their stations and that everyone still alive in the city was basically on their own, at least for now. Then he pointed out that the refinery was full of heavy equipment and service vehicles that could be modified, made zombie-proof, and force their way through the traffic jams blocking the roads to reach much needed sources of food and supplies. Most of the refinery workers agreed with his plan.